Keeper of the High Passes
by Libertarian
Summary: The High Lord of a family once lost returns to the world, and begins to unleash his plans. Hermione (7th year) and Snape, who have bonded from a previous experience, must decide whether or not this lord is evil, whether or not they are in love, and wheth
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One- Arrivals and Departures  
  
Hermione sat quietly in her black robes, shivering and trying to avoid everyone's eyes.  
  
"I'm sure none of them meant to offend you. well, none but the Slytherins, at any rate," Harry offered weakly. Hermione nodded slightly and turned to the window, feigning great interest in the countryside flying by beyond the train- anything to keep her friends from noticing the stubborn tears reddening her eyes.  
  
"None of us meant to imply you looked bad before; it's just. well, I mean, you just look so nice now. Really, no one thought you were ugly before," stammered Ron.  
  
"That was a very redundant sentence," Ginny remarked brusquely. After Ron flushed angrily, but before he could snap out a reply, she continued. "Don't worry, Hermione, the students were merely expressing how great they think you look now. Before you were average, and now you're a knockout; it would take much more tactful people to not gush about how much you've changed."  
  
Hermione smiled slightly; if she had actually been upset about everyone's reactions to her improved appearance, Ginny's words would have certainly cheered her up. Unfortunately for her, however, her real problem was much more serious.  
  
*  
  
She stood in front of the mirror, then, her trunks settled and her personal effects unpacked. As she coldly appraised her naked form, Hermione allowed herself a small pleasure at the changes one summer had wrought- on the surface, at least.  
  
Her long, frizzy hair was now silky and wavy, her inquisitive eyes enhanced by a small amount of make-up, her breasts fuller, her stomach flattened by an ungodly amount of crunches, her hips gently rounded, her legs toned and tanned from days spent running furiously through sunbathed southern France. even Hermione herself had to admit that the physical changes, at least, had been good for her.  
  
That reminded her- she had best be sure to visit Madame Pomfrey as soon as possible.  
  
With a last fleeting look at her reflection, she gathered her robe around her, grabbed her shower tote, and headed for the Prefects' bathroom.  
  
*  
  
Snape chased the sounds of the pounding footsteps, dodging frightened students as he went. Very briefly, he allowed himself slight amusement at their exaggerated terror of him; he knew he must look quite imposing thundering down the corridors with his night-black robes billowing out behind him.  
  
A second later, his mind had turned back to the problem at hand. Someone had managed to get past the numerous defenses he had placed on his office and had stolen a vial of one of his most guarded ingredients- Phoenix blood. He had almost been at the entrance to the dungeon when someone had rushed out in the opposite direction. With only the briefest of glances inside, Snape had realized what had been taken- the little enchanted rosewood box hiding his precious vial.  
  
Snarling, Snape rounded the corner and realized the corridor would come to a dead-end at the Gryffindor common room. The footsteps had not sounded distant enough for the person to have escaped into there, so Snape assumed the culprit must have entered the only other door nearby: the door to the Prefects' Bathroom. Pointing his wand at the door, he shouted "Congela Viros!" to immediately paralyze anyone inside.  
  
After a slight pause to catch his breath, Snape provided the password and entered the bathroom.  
  
The very first thing he noticed was the back of a girl's head, tilted forward, her smooth shoulders, and her upper back- the sides of the deep bath precluded him seeing anything else.  
  
Deftly ignoring the throb of surprise and something else that had overcome him for a moment, Snape decided that the girl in the bath was probably not the culprit. He growled angrily, and decided to at least interrogate her for any clues. "Relinqui!" he commanded, and the girl un-froze.  
  
Snape noticed with faint bemusement that the girl began to tremble uncontrollably as soon as she was released. Confused and slightly caught off guard by her shaking and her silence, he stepped forward and flipped his cloak back over his shoulders,  
  
"I want to know your name first, and then I want to know whether you saw or heard anyone enter here before I did."  
  
"Snape?" the girl whispered in a small, shaky voice tinged with both disbelief and horror.  
  
"That's 'Professor' Snape," he snapped distractedly, trying to figure out why the voice seemed so familiar. The tone was very different, but there was something about that smooth alto.  
  
"Miss Granger?" he hazarded.  
  
"Oh dear," Hermione gasped as sobs racked her body and she sank deeper into the bubbling waters.  
  
Snape was stunned- why was Hermione Granger, of all people, crying uncontrollably in the bath?  
  
A wave of pity washed over him, but he tried to ignore it- he still needed to know what had happened to his phoenix blood.  
  
"Miss Granger," Snape began, trying to make his voice less scathing, "Did you see or hear anyone enter this bathroom?" Hermione shook her head violently, then began to cry even harder.  
  
Snape was now thoroughly confused- why was she so hysterical? Without thinking, he strode quickly to the edge of the bath now nearly full, and went down on one knee.  
  
"Miss Granger, are you all right?" he asked, hoping his voice did not betray too much concern. She spun at the sound of him, now so much nearer, and her eyes widened in shock.  
  
"Oh please, please Professor- don't look at me! Please go away!" she managed as she scuttled backwards.  
  
Snape was utterly dumbfounded. Why was she so disturbed? She was now neck deep in soapy water- what could he possibly see? Was his glimpse of her naked back really so invasive? Snape averted his eyes from her face, now covered by her shaking hands.  
  
"Miss Granger, why are you so upset? I apologize for interrupting your bath, but you must understand- I am not here to harm you. I was looking for a thief," he tried to explain. When she showed no sign of relaxing, he irritably continued, "Really, Miss Granger, I won't hurt you."  
  
She froze, then slowly lowered her hands, and for a moment they just stared at each other. Then, without warning, Hermione let out a piercing scream and sank limply under the surface.  
  
*  
  
Snape ran down the long corridors, Hermione's limp, towel-wrapped body clutched to his chest. When she'd fainted, he'd been too stunned for a few seconds to even realize what was going on. Then, with her cry still ringing in his ears, he'd closed his eyes and levitated her out of the bath. He had felt along the wall, grabbed two large towels, and had then shrouded Hermione's hovering body in them- all without having opened his eyes.  
  
Snape almost slid as he stopped outside the infirmary. After taking a quick breath, he entered and looked around for Madame Pomfrey.  
  
The large room was completely devoid of people. With a snarl of frustration, he stumbled down the rows of beds until he came to the last on the right- the one closest to the large bay window looking west out over the lake. Carefully, he lowered Hermione onto the bed and pulled the blankets up to her neck, but paused as his hand brushed her face. She looks so afraid, even as she sleeps, he thought. What had happened to this little Gryffindor know-it-all to make her so fearful?  
  
With a start, Snape realized his fingers were absently tracing a long line from her chin to her collarbone and back again. Disgusted by his presumption, he jerked his hand away and hurried off in search of Dumbledore- the Headmaster would be quite interested in what had been stolen. 


	2. The Pounding and the Pain

Chapter 2- The Pounding and the Pain  
  
Images flashed maddeningly through her head as she tossed and turned in the strange bed.  
  
A summer's day, hot and humid, at her holiday cottage in the country. Outside, following Crookshanks as he chased butterflies in the cutting garden. So hot. Sweat dripping down her back. Walking inside the cool house, into the bathroom, the tiles cool on her bare feet, her clothes falling in a pile at her side. The tap turning, the water falling around her, on her, erasing her fatigue. A hand reaching through the curtains, a pressure around her throat, a scream, falling, falling, falling.  
  
Hermione cried out and sat up, propelled by some benevolent force right into the embrace of Harry, who had been perched anxiously on her bedside for nearly an hour.  
  
After overcoming his surprise, Harry pulled Hermione closer and stroked her hair as she sobbed and sobbed in his arms.  
  
*  
  
Madame Pomfrey listened to Hermione's whispered explanation and request, her eyes widening. For a moment, she forgot all of the sick students moaning outside her office in the infirmary. For a moment, only Hermione existed in the world.  
  
"You want me to. to. restore." Poppy trailed off, staring in disbelief as Hermione nodded.  
  
"But dear, I don't think. I've never come across a spell for that," Madame Pomfrey admitted reluctantly. How could she say no to this weakened girl, who had already been through so much? But, with a sigh, she remembered all of the students who had become sick in the night while Hermione tossed and turned fretfully. They all needed her as well, and she simply didn't have enough time to search for the spell Hermione wanted. Besides, she was reasonably sure no such spell existed.  
  
"I cannot help you, but I know someone else here at Hogwarts who might be able to do what you ask," Madame Pomfrey offered.  
  
"Oh, please. who is it?" Hermione asked as she brushed her tears away.  
  
"Well. Severus Snape was trained as a healer, among his other. talents. He might be able to make a potion for you." Poppy was dismayed immensely by the look of terror that flitted briefly across Hermione's face.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked quickly.  
  
"Yes, Madame. Thank you for your time," Hermione said in an eerily emotionless voice before briskly striding out of the office, out of the infirmary, and off into the corridors beyond.  
  
*  
  
"What's wrong with Hermione?" Ron asked Harry as they played Wizard's Chess in the Gryffindor common room. The armchair Hermione often sat in was empty.  
  
"I wish I could say," Harry replied quietly, hoping Ron would pick up on the hint; Harry's hopes were fulfilled.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Ron demanded sharply. "Did she tell you what was going on?"  
  
"Yes," Harry sighed, "But she made me swear not to tell anyone. I think you should talk to Hermione yourself."  
  
"I think I will," Ron replied thoughtfully. "Checkmate," he added.  
  
*  
  
Snape grimaced at Neville Longbottom as he peered into the boy's cauldron. It was only the first day of class, and already the foolish Gryffindor was screwing up.  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor," the professor snapped as the substance turned black and bubbled.  
  
He stopped again by Malfoy's table, peering irritably at the three Slytherins. Actually, Snape could hardly stand Draco at all, and the idiots Crabbe and Goyle were worse. As a spy among Lord Voldemort's followers, however, it behooved his cause to show deference to the son of powerful Lord Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Who can tell me the uses of ground Hippogriff fur?" Snape queried loudly, then watched in amusement as the entire dungeon full of students adroitly managed to avoid his stare. Out of habit, his eyes flicked over to the table where Weasley, Potter, and Granger always sat; he was surprised to see Hermione slumped against a column doodling idly on a sheet of parchment.  
  
"What a surprise. Miss Granger doesn't have her hand up. Don't you know the answer?" Snape taunted.  
  
"Maybe," she replied flatly, never looking up. The Potions master felt his face flush suddenly- how dare this little chit speak to him so flippantly?  
  
"I'm not sure I understand, Miss Granger," Snape intoned, his voice icy and menacingly low.  
  
"I haven't been paying attention, so I don't even know what the question was, let alone whether or not I could answer it," Hermione responded in the same bland tone, her head never lifting.  
  
"Perhaps you need practice paying attention to me," the Potions master snapped, the anger apparent in his tone. "Maybe a week of detention will help you to focus." Hermione shrugged and rested her chin in her hands. Snape felt fury rise at her indifference, and something else. he tried to ignore that her abrupt disinterest in his class and in his anger offended him.  
  
"Do you also need practice making eye contact, Miss Granger?" he demanded. He noticed people were shifting uncomfortably in their seats- Draco and his two associates looked exultant, however.  
  
Hermione now sat rigidly straight on her stool, her head down.  
  
"Miss Granger?" he repeated threateningly. She did not move.  
  
His heart pounding, the Potions master strode angrily towards the three Gryffindors, her robes floating behind him. He stopped in front of Hermione, his hand shot out, and he forced her face upward towards his.  
  
Snape felt the look of terror and revulsion in Hermione's bloodshot eyes as a physical blow. He jerked his hand back, and tears began to cascade down her face.  
  
"I will see you tonight at six," he stated, trying to quell the surge of emotions that almost added a quiver to his voice.  
  
"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered, her head dropping back. With a snarl at the gaping students, Snape returned to the front of the class and tried to finish the lesson normally.  
  
*  
  
The fall seemed to last forever, the water flying down around her. Suddenly her head bounced on the wet tiles, but she didn't remember the pain. All she saw was the tall dark-robed man kneeling over her prone body. "If you do not scream, I shall not kill you." Her hands pinned above her head with magic, the horrible appraising glaze roaming her squirming body. "Your stomach could be a bit flatter, I suppose, but you'll have to do." So modest, all these years. Now, naked and bound on the floor in her parents home, listening to the man's laugh.  
  
A stabbing, brutal thrust ended her childhood and set her body afire. And then, there was nothing but the pounding and the pain. 


End file.
